


The Captain and The Prisoner

by randomdreamer01



Series: you hold nothing but the sun [3]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Canon Compliant, Cassian is pining, Criminal Jyn, Drama, F/M, Mild Language, Romance, lie back and think of the alliance, spy cassian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 01:18:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9297827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomdreamer01/pseuds/randomdreamer01
Summary: So the girl is ruthless as well as reckless. Heartless too, by the looks of it."But if Liana Hallik is heartless, then I am heartless too," Cassian thinks....What Cassian does while he searches for Liana Hallik and what Jyn does while Liana Hallik is being found.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a companion piece to "The Spy and His Informant" (Cassian's POV) and "The Thief and Her Partner" (Jyn's POV). You don't have to read those ones to understand this one, but I encourage you to nonetheless! *wink wink*

“In!” 

The Stormtrooper knocks his blaster against Jyn’s back and she all but sprawls onto the floor of the cell. Her hands are shackled behind her back so she can’t use them to break the fall; all she feels is the hard granite smacking against the side of her face as she makes contact. 

Blood. She spits it out like it were nothing. 

From her place on the floor, she glares at the ‘trooper in question. “Careful with that thing. One day I might kill you with it.”

The ‘trooper laughs; the sound is strangely hollow when it is emitted from inside that helmet. 

“A talker, are you? Let’s see how long you last.”

Jyn wants to say that she - Jyn - is not a talker at all, but Liana Hallik is. But then again, no one cares about Liana Hallik. That is part of the reason why she has ended up here in the first place. 

She stands, turns, shakes the hair out of her eyes. There are three ‘troopers escorting her. She figures she can take out one (preferably the one who hit her with his blaster) and then use his weapon to disarm (or kill) the other two. This might take her a minute or two tops. But then, behind these three, she can see ten or more ‘troopers outside; some are loitering in front of prison cells while others are on their usual patrol. She can use this cell as protection, she thinks - stand here with a blaster and shoot until they all drop. She reckons the shoot out might last twenty to thirty minutes before more ‘troopers arrive or she runs out of bolts. A suicide, really. She contemplates the option for a few seconds, mulls it over in her brain. But then she feels the Kyber crystal humming against her skin. 

_Maybe it is not such a good idea after all._

She spits out more blood. Her mouth is parched; she can’t remember the last time they gave her a drink. 

“I want to work,” she tells the ‘trooper.

“What?”

“This is a labour camp, isn’t it?” She gestures to the bars and cells (endless cells) outside. “I’d rather be outside than rot in here.”

_Or I’d rather die outside than die in here._

The ‘troopers laugh at her words. 

“How long is your sentence?” one of them asks.

“Twenty.” 

Their laughter intensifies. In Wobani, five years is already considered a death sentence. Twenty is a cosmic joke. 

“I bet that mouth of yours is what put you here. Better get used to whatever grave we give you now, Hallik.”

One of them reaches out and frees her from her restraints. They leave, still chuckling, and the bars of her cell snap shut behind them with a desperate, horrible clanging sound that drains the last bit of strength out of Jyn and she collapses onto the tiny cot in the corner. 

_Breathe. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out._

At least the ceiling is not low, she notes; she had been in Imperial prisons where she had to crouch the entire time. There is another cot opposite of hers and she is glad to see that it is unoccupied for now. No wash basin. No ‘fresher (she hasn’t expected one). A small shelf just above her head. A pillow (almost as flat and hard as a slab of stone), but no blanket. All in all, not the worst cell she’s been put in, but she’s heard about Wobani. The real test is not where she lays her head at night but the gruelling labour work, the corrupted guards, and the other prisoners. _It is where the scums of the galaxy are brought to die_ , someone had told her once. This is what she is now. Tanith Pontha. Kestrel Dawn. Liana Hallik. Jyn Erso. _Scum._

She lies back on the cot and stares up at the ceiling. The sigh she lets out is heavy - laden - as if she has been holding it back for days and days. 

_I’ve been slow. Sloppy. Stupid._

She thinks back to what she has done wrong and there are plenty. She goes over each decision in her mind, lists each of them with a pang of regret and frustration: 

  1. She should not have recruited that seventeen-year-old boy Jes. Or at least she should not have fucked him and left him behind. (She should not have fucked him at all.)
  2. She should not have stolen those propellers from Davin. Or at least she should not have stolen them and hidden them with Jes’ uncle. (Turns out he was an unreliable bastard.)
  3. She should not have given her fingerprints to the guy she sold the propellers to. (She was in a hurry, but still.)
  4. She should not have sneaked into that cantina and fallen asleep under the bar. (She doesn’t regret the gin.) 
  5. She should not have gotten caught by that bartender Heera. The woman had warned her that some guy from the Rebellion is after her, but it could have been a trick. (She didn’t look like she was _playing_ a trick, but there was clearly something going on between her and the guy, and Jyn never trusts a woman who’s in love.) 
  6. She should have ditched Liana Hallik along with her list of crimes when she boarded the ship out of Corulag. (But she didn’t. Why?)



It doesn’t matter now, Jyn thinks. She’s caught and that’s that. Nothing matters now except surviving. Her grip on the Kyber necklace tightens (at least she still has this). She’s never heard of a prisoner who’s survived twenty years in Wobani before. Maybe - just maybe - she can be the first.

* * *

 

The boy is testing Cassian’s patience. He is handsome enough, Cassian will give him that, but he keeps talking round and round in circles, getting no where and divulging nothing interesting. Cassian feels a headache coming on and he has to press two fingers to his temple, trying desperately not to let the disdain slip into his voice. 

“Excuse me, Mister…?”

“Kobak. Jes Kobak,” says the boy, looking slightly offended that Cassian does not remember his name. 

“What were you saying?” 

“Well, I was _saying_ that I can’t stay long.” He looks pointedly at Cassian as if accusing him of not paying attention. (He isn’t.) “My father is coming back from business. From Coruscant, you know. And I have to be there to welcome him home and that…”

“Yes, yes, I’ve heard all that.” Cassian waves his hand wearily. “But what about _this_? I’m asking you about _this._ ” He jabs his finger at the photograph sitting on the table between them. Jes looks down at it, frowns, as though he can’t quite believe what he is seeing. 

“You told me you ran into her,” says Cassian. _And I also have people who told me you did._ He picks up the photograph and shows it to the boy again. “Tell me about her.” 

The boy’s easy (arrogant) demeanour slips. 

“Liana.”

“Yes. Liana Hallik.” The name falls from Cassian’s lips like it were poison. He is tired to death of Liana Hallik. Ever since a few months ago when Mon Mothma pushed the photograph into his hand, he has spent more time than he would have liked staring at her picture, searching for her, trying to get inside her brain. _Who is she?_ he has asked Mothma. _Why am I looking for her?_ But the only answer he got was: _Just in case. Just in case._

“Yes, I know her,” says the boy quietly. 

“And?”

He shrugs. “She deserves what she gets.”

Cassian frowns. “What do you mean by that?”

Jes picks up the photograph and looks at Cassian, but before he can say anything, the comlink in Cassian’s jacket pocket beeps. 

“Sorry,” Cassian says. “Gotta take this.” 

The boy looks relieved. Cassian stands up and makes his way out of the cafe. Outside, the rain is pouring steadily, and he stands underneath the small balcony to keep out of the showers. His eyes, however, are still trained on the youth inside.

“What is it?” he snaps into the comlink. “You know I’m in the middle of something.” 

K2SO’s voice cracks through: “I am sorry to interrupt, Cassian, but there is a message for you from Base One.”

“Mothma?” 

“General Draven.” 

“What does he want?” 

“There is a significant movement from the Holy City of Jedha.” 

He frowns, all thoughts of Liana Hallik disappearing momentarily. 

“Jedha? What movement?”

“A defection. He wants you to contact him back immediately. He says he might have need of your contact inside Saw Gerrera’s inner circle.” 

_Tivik._ Cassian curses loudly. 

“The Ring of Kafrene is halfway across the galaxy from here!” 

“I am sorry, but there is nothing we can do,” says the droid. “You should come back to the ship as soon as you can. We will make a transmission to Base One from here.” 

“Fine,” he mutters darkly.

“No dawdling back to the cantina.”

The (not so) subtle mention of Heera makes his jaws clench.

“You don’t have to worry about that now.”

“Oh, I believe you,” says the droid, in a way which says he doesn’t at all. Cassian only grumbles in response before switching off the comlink.

When he arrives back inside, Jes is still holding Liana Hallik’s photograph. The boy watches as Cassian takes his seat and something shifts within his eyes.

“What did you say your name was again?” asks the boy.

“Joreth Sward.” Cassian grabs into his jacket and bangs his identification down on the table. It is old, expired now, but the boy won’t notice. “Imperial intelligence.”

“Intelligence, huh?”

Cassian pushes all thoughts of Jedha and Draven out of his mind. He touches the photograph again.

“What do you know of Liana Hallik?”

“Not much.” Seeing the identification seems to calm Jes. He puts the photograph back down on the table. “We met three weeks ago. I was coming out of my family’s research facility and I ran into her. She was waiting outside, trying to apply for a job, you see. We struck up a conversation.”

“We?”

The boy blushes a little. “ _She_ did. She asked me for some tips for her job interview. We started talking and we got on so I asked to meet her the next day. We…became friends.”

“You slept with her, you mean?” 

The boy shifts in his seat. “Yes.”

The knowledge bothers Cassian, but he can’t quite understand why. He chances a glance down at the woman in the photograph and back up at the boy again. Something doesn’t quite _fit._

“How old are you?” he asks.

“Seventeen.” 

“How old is Liana?”

“I don’t know.” The boy shrugs. “Older.” 

“What did she want with you?”

The boy avoids his eyes. “It was just a fling…it didn’t really…”

“What happened?”

“I helped her rob the facility. She said she was in trouble - that some thugs were after her and they wouldn’t stop unless she could get them what they wanted. So…I helped. I thought…” 

“You thought you’d be the hero.”

His eyes flash with anger. 

_Good,_ Cassian thinks. _At least there’s some fight in there._

“What happened next?” 

“They wouldn’t pay her the rest of the money so she broke into their docking bay and got her hands on some stolen propellers. I let her hide them at my uncle’s. We were going to sell them. Make enough money to get a passage off this planet. But she-”

“She left you behind, didn’t she?” 

The boy nods and looks away quickly, out of either anger or shame or a mixture of both. 

So the girl is ruthless as well as reckless. Heartless too, by the looks of it. Cassian sees how the boy’s eyes swim with hurt and it reminds him fleetingly of Heera. Heera, his informant, his brain tells him, but he knows that she is not just that. He thinks of her hair, her touch, the way she had cried the last time she had kissed his lips. 

_If Liana Hallik is heartless, then I am heartless too._

He pushes down the guilt (it is second nature to him now) and sighs. The sound makes the boy look back at him again. 

“So what did you do?” Cassian asks.

“What did I do?” the boy scoffs. “My father has connections. He pulled some strings. Last I heard, the ship she boarded got picked up. It barely made it off the planet. Turns out she has priors. My father’s man says they shipped her off to Wobani.”

The Imperial labour camp. Cassian feels something like dread tugging at his heart. He picks up the photograph again and stares at her face (he does that a lot, he knows). She has resolute eyes, this Liana Hallik. He has decided that long ago. Something in the curve of her mouth screams defiance. If someone can survive Wobani, it might be her. But then, he does not know her well enough to say. 

The boy’s voice brings Cassian back. 

“She deserves what she gets.”

The words cause a rush of anger to sweep over him. He presses a finger to his temple again. 

_Calm. Stay calm._

He is so damn tired - of the boy, of Corulag, of feeling guilty about Heera. He thinks of Draven’s message (whatever it is) and he grows even more tired. He is tired all the time now. 

_There is not enough time._

He stows the photograph back into his jacket and fixes his companion with a cold, steely stare. The boy flinches at the gaze. 

“Let me give you a little advice, Jos.”

“Jes.”

He waves the name away like it means nothing. “Jes, Jos, whatever the hell you’re called.” He leans in, almost grabbing the youth by his collar and shaking him in frustration. “From where I’m standing, she’s done a number on you, pal. So next time you think of being a hero? Don’t. Get a fucking life first.” 

He leaves before the boy can recover his senses. 

* * *

 

On mornings when the guards choose Jyn, they come to get her before the crack of dawn. They shackle her hands behind her back, march her out of her cell and into a transport which takes the prisoners to the work site. Like she has anticipated, the work helps. It is gruelling work, nonetheless; Wobani is not a forgiving planet and hauling rocks and digging holes under the planet’s scorching sun tests Jyn’s resolve. She keeps reminding herself that she has faced worse odds when she was with Saw. But when these work days draw to a close, those worse odds seem to slip further and further away from her memory. Wobani is the only thing she knows now. Probably the only thing she will ever know from now on. 

At least at night, the work makes her too exhausted to stay awake for long. The dreams do not bother her when she is too dead on her feet. It is a comfort - not having to see her dead mother, or Saw, or the man in white, or her father who is dead but not really dead. Work keeps her focused on surviving, she tells herself. You cannot survive by lying in a cell all day. 

Two weeks after she arrived, she finally gets a cellmate. Jyn is pretty certain that her new companion is female, but of a species she doesn’t care to learn. Kennel, she is called, and she has tentacles protruding from her face and a strong, smelling fungus growing from her chest area. 

“A human,” Kennel sneers at Jyn the moment they meet. “Petty criminal.”

Jyn doesn’t correct her. Criminal sounds better than murderer, runner, rebel. 

“I wonder how long you can last before I kill you,” says Kennel. 

Jyn has now lost track of the number of death threats she gets in a day. Her response is glib and inconsequential: “Not before I kill you first.” 

Kennel bares her teeth from across the room and hisses. Jyn just scoffs and settles back in her cot, her hand tight around the Kyber Crystal.

Nights in Wobani are cold and Jyn has to curl herself into a ball and draw her legs up until her knees touch her chest. The crystal is all the warmth she can get and on nights when she is not exhausted, when Kennel has proven even more difficult than usual, she stays awake long until the early hours of the morning, staring at a spot on the wall. Occasionally, when she dips in and out of sleep, she dreams of Lah’mu or of the cave in the ground with the hatch above her. She prefers to be awake then; that way, the nightmares are kept at bay. She spends her time going over her mistakes instead (she does it a lot). She repeats them to herself like a mantra: _she should not have used Jes, she should not have stolen the propellers, she should not have given her fingerprints, she should have ditched Liana Hallik._

But she _hadn’t_ ditched Liana Hallik. And like she did on her first day on Wobani, she wonders why. 

The knowledge that an Alliance officer is on her tail bothers her far more than she cares to admit. The Alliance has no use for Liana Hallik (criminal, murderer, runner). The only explanation is that they are after _her,_ Jyn Erso. And somehow, she is helping them find her by leaving a trail across the galaxy. 

_Why?_

She thinks she knows why. But she doesn’t want to think about it, can’t think about it. The reason scares her, makes her grip the crystal tighter until her knuckles turn white. She has been running ever since Saw left her in that bunker when she was sixteen. Maybe even before that. Tanith Pontha, Kestrel Dawn, Liana Hallik - they are all runners. But Jyn Erso…she is not used to what Jyn Erso does when she stops running. 

* * *

 

Cassian’s intel from Tivik drops like a bomb in the meeting room. Mon Mothma turns pale while General Draven sucks in a short breath, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. The few seconds of silence which follow are excruciating. Finally, it is Mothma who speaks first: “We must verify this.” 

“Agreed,” says Draven. 

Cassian feels the sense of impatience creeping up, but he says nothing.

“Captain Andor.” Mon Mothma turns to him. “What of Liana Hallik?”

It is the last thing he has expected her to say.

“Excuse me, ma’am, I don’t see how-”

Mothma reaches forward and pushes a button on the console in front of her. Hallik’s face looms up before them. 

“Gentlemen, this is Jyn Erso, daughter of Galen and Lyra Erso. She was raised by Saw Gerrera since the age of eight before leaving Saw’s Partisans at sixteen. She now goes by the name of-”

“Liana Hallik,” says Cassian, the name dropping into his gut like lead. He curses inwardly. He should have seen this coming. _Just in case_ , Mothma had told him. 

“Captain Andor, please update us with the status of your mission in locating Liana Hallik.”

“Hallik is located, ma’am. She was in Corulag for a while, trading in stolen goods. But she is now imprisoned in Wobani labour camp.” 

“A prisoner of the Empire?” says Draven curiously. 

“I propose we extract her from the camp. She can lead us to Saw Gerrera and help us verify Captain Andor’s intel. She might even lead us to her father.” Mon Mothma’s voice is crisp and sharp. She has practiced this speech before, Cassian thinks. “I am aware of the variables this plan may entail, but considering the gravity of the captain’s intel, I see no other course of action. General?”

Draven studies the hologram of Jyn Erso for a moment and turns to Cassian.

“Captain Andor?” 

“Sir?”

“How long have you been searching for this girl?”

“Four months and two weeks, sir.”

“What is your take on the situation?” 

He spares a fleeting glance at Mon Mothma. “She is tough, sir.” _How can she not be?_ “Independent. Smart. But incredibly reckless. I wouldn’t trust her to follow protocol. I wouldn’t trust her to do anything, really.”

Draven does not seem surprised by Cassian’s answer. He tilts his head back, hand slowly stroking his chin. Cassian has known him long enough to know that he is weighing up every pro and con. Finally, he turns back to Mothma and gives her a curt nod. Cassian almost misses the relief that steals into her expression. 

“Very well,” she says. “We will send an extraction team to Wobani.”

Without quite planning it, Cassian lifts his hand. “Ma’am, I request a position in that team.”

“Captain?” 

Draven looks even more surprised than Mothma. “Whatever for?”

Penance. Curiosity. Frustration. Cassian doesn’t really know what answer to give. 

“You’re Intelligence, Captain,” says Mon Mothma, not unkindly. “This is a job for Bravo Team. I will brief Sergeant Melshi myself.”

Cassian bows his head. There is nothing more to say. The meeting is adjourned, and Draven walks over to put a steady hand on his shoulder.

“When was the last time you had some sleep, captain?”

Cassian smiles thinly. He can still feel the sands of Kafrene in the soles of his shoes. 

“Can’t remember, sir.”

“Get some sleep, okay? We need you around for when Melshi gets back with the girl.”

“Will do, sir.” 

Draven gives his shoulder one last pat before taking the path towards the living quarters. Cassian knows he should be heading there himself, but instead, he makes his way back to the docking bay. He finds K2SO there, still fixing their ship’s console. The droid takes one look at him and says, “You are upset.” 

Cassian sighs. “There will be an extraction team sent to Wobani. Melshi might request that you go along.”

“Did he ask?”

“No, but he always does.”

“And you are staying behind.”

“Yes.”

The droid looks at him, his mechanical eyes swivelling in calculation. “And this upsets you.” 

_Yes._ But he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t need to. 

“Why?” K2SO asks.

“I don’t know.” He goes over everything in his mind: Tivik, dead on the ground; the Planet Killer; Galen Erso; and Liana Hallik who is not Liana Hallik at all. “Something is happening - shifting. But I can’t quite put my finger on it.” He sighs again. “Or maybe this is just me being neurotic because I haven’t slept in forty-eight hours.”

“Fifty-two.”

“What?”

“You have not slept in fifty-two hours, Cassian. Not forty-eight.”

He smiles despite the tiredness.

“I suppose it is time for me to remedy that then. Let me know when you take off, okay?”

“Yes, I will, Cassian. And remember. Worrying decreases any chance of success by twenty-three percent.”

He smirks, but he feels the heaviness falling away a little. He says goodbye to the droid and makes his way back to his quarters. 

It is after he has taken a shower and fallen back onto his cot that he realises he still has it in his pocket. The photograph. He draws it out. It is frayed around the edges now, and smudged with something he thinks must be mud from Corulag. But the woman in it looks the same. 

_No, no, she doesn’t,_ he corrects himself quickly. 

Context changes everything now. It gives meaning to why her eyes burn a little brighter, why her chin is held up a little prouder. Liana Hallik has been a stranger and a criminal. But Jyn Erso…well, Jyn Erso is complicated, whoever she is. 

He lets his index finger drift down the side of her face until it rests on the edge of the photo. He still doesn’t trust her, still thinks this is all a horrible idea. But as he drifts off to sleep, he can’t help but wish that she would still be alive when Melshi’s team touches down on Wobani. 

Somehow, he thinks that she will be. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, there it is! Finally, Jyn and Cassian are in the same story! Not sure if this will be the last story in the series, but I might still write one more to close it out. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought!


End file.
